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- Herausgeber: Buchman Bookworks, Inc.
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015
-a Where Dreams romance story- Sam Walsh, cooks straight from his heart. Recently promoted to Executive Chef of a nationally- renowned Italian restaurant, he can at last make his mark in the culinary world. Luisa Valenti, Angelo’s line expediter, discovered Sam’s skills. When they are given control of Angelo’s Tuscan Hearth Ristorante, she can’t trust the long-sought success. What Luisa doesn’t trust, she breaks. But Luisa has never received a gift like Sam’s heart. Only together can they serve up a future Where Dreams Are Well Done.
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Where Dreams Are Well Done
a Seattle romance
M. L. Buchman
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
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Chapter 1
“What is wrong with you? I needed that fish three minutes ago. Did you learn to cook in a cave?”
“You needed it twelve seconds ago,” Sam shot back. And decided against telling Luisa Valenti that she wasn’t going to get it for another thirty seconds. Besides, the kitchen’s aboyeur was busy dressing the plate of pappardelle with wild boar ragù that he’d just handed across the line.
“Fine, then where’s my trio of sea scallops and squid-ink pasta?” She didn’t even stop for a breath. “Though why everyone at a table would order the same dish is beyond sad. Just keep cooking the way you are and maybe we’ll never see such dweebs ever again.”
“Open your pretty eyes, Luisa,” he teased her as his sous chef Marlys slid the three matching plates onto the warmer shelf that separated his station from Luisa’s.
She rolled those beautiful brown eyes at him, making it clear that she knew he was trying to distract her from the laggard glazed halibut.
A glance down the cook line either way told him that they were running a little rough, but okay. He dropped another two orders of orzo into a pot of boiling water to help out Valerie. He also passed a tray of stuffed and breaded squash blossoms from Tony to Valerie as she turned to the deep fryer, saving her three extra steps she didn’t have time for. He dropped the next two pieces of fish into pans for Marlys and accepted the two plates of sea bass ready for saucing.
He’d never have dared talked to Luisa that way while he was still a prep chef. He’d noticed her of course, there were only a dozen staff at Angelo’s Tuscan Hearth Ristorante, including the three waitstaff, but his duties had mainly been in the morning before the restaurant opened. Angelo or Manuel would do the shopping at daybreak, then all of the proteins and produce would arrive for him to prep. When Manuel had shifted to Angelo’s new restaurant, Sam had been pulled into the lunch line.
Up until this morning he’d thought he was just being trained to fill in where needed. Tonight they’d dropped him instead of Marlys into the Executive Chef slot for dinner service because Angelo couldn’t make it. If he had time, he’d be freaking out right now, but he didn’t.
Over the last month he’d worked with Marlys the grillardin cooking the meats and Valerie at entremetier—the hot appetizers, soups, and pasta station, one of the keys to an Italian restaurant. He’d almost died at the sous chef position—keeping the saucier’s eight pans always filled with whatever had to be sautéed to perfection, because Angelo accepted nothing less, which required being part magician, part juggler, and part octopus.
As a prep cook, the menu had been drilled into this head. Yes, it was always changing based on what was freshest in Seattle’s Pike Place Market just out the back door, but there was a style, a flavor, a feel to Angelo’s cooking that made sense once he understood it.
He’d even done some turns as the Executive Chef for lunch service. The lighter fare becoming second nature with practice.
That was when he first bumped heads with Luisa.
There was no way to miss Luisa’s presence in the kitchen. It was the aboyeur’sjob to expedite service and did she ever. Luisa had every order in her head, never having to check a ticket twice. And she was very vocal about not getting everything in the exact order she’d called for it. Table Seven had a simple ragù, a pan-fried swordfish on a bed of angel hair pasta with one of Angelo’s signature sauces that had to be made the moment before service, and a grilled lamb and baby asparagus with a Gorganzola cheese drizzle—and Luisa would throw a fit if they weren’t all ready in the same five seconds even though they took drastically different amounts of time to cook. Actually, in the same three seconds.
But with Luisa in charge, there was never an undressed plate or a missed order. She was just as amazing as she looked. And as dangerous.
He slid across the missing halibut with a honey-rosemary-chestnut glaze and the accompanying bowl of the wild boar ragù.
“Finally!” she huffed at him.
Being the sole target for her ire was daunting. Everyone on this side of the cook line answered to him, but he answered to the fair Luisa.
He still didn’t know how he’d landed in the Executive Chef slot through a dinner service. He’d entered the kitchen and Luisa had simply told him, “Angelo’s busy tonight. It’s your cook line.” He’d taken his first breath about an hour into the meal, but hadn’t had time yet to take a second one.
She finished dressing the plates with berry compote traced in an elegant line around the outline of the halibut. With immaculate timing, Graziella breezed in from the front of house, barely breaking stride as she gathered the completed dishes, and whisked back out.
It was a shock every single time to see them together. Two slender, beautiful Italian women with golden skin and lush dark hair that reached the middle of their backs. They could have been twins. Except Graziella was as gracious and patient as her name, unflappable under even the most dire circumstances. Luisa’s heritage must be at least part Roman, as in Roman candle. Incendiary.
“What are you paying attention to, Chef?” she snapped at him.
Luisa hadn’t looked up at him, but he’d been watching her and not his line and somehow she knew. A quick glance showed him that his momentary lapse to admire his aboyeurhad just caused him more trouble.
“Fire three halibut and two sea bass, a lamb, a beef tenderloin, and two scallop.”
